


Sanguis

by curiouscat99



Category: Vinland Saga (Anime), Vinland Saga (Manga)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Depends, Fantasy, LMAO, M/M, Multi, Multi Chapter, Mystery maybe, Other, Romance, Semi slowburn, Suspense, Thornute, Vampire AU, canufinn, guess who are the vampires, i said angst but what is the ending?, its been awhile since i last write something serious, thorfinn x canute, vinland saga - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22254421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiouscat99/pseuds/curiouscat99
Summary: For centuries, humans and vampires struggle to co-exist. For humans, they are supposed to be at the top of the food chain, the most intelligent creation of God, until the appearance of the vampires. Bloodsuckers, night creatures, son of the devil, are some of their monikers. A supernatural species that exist at the cost of human lives.Thorfinn Karlsefni is a vampire slayer holding a deep resentment toward these demonic entities. He is sent to Jelling after receiving a report about a strange massacre. Little did he know a life-changing mission awaits him in the form of a peculiar criminal.ThorNute Vampire! AU[HIATUS]
Relationships: Canute/Thorfinn (Vinland Saga)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	1. Prologue

**_Deutoronomy 12:23 Only be sure not to eat the blood, because the blood is the life._ **

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

His footsteps echoed on the dark alleyways of a narrow street. A hooded figure saunters uncaringly but not without aim. Both hands in his pockets, wearing a dark brown cloak to protect himself against the freezing temperature. On his sides are the wandering eyes of delinquents like beasts in the night, their fingers between cigars and liquor on hands, their booming laughter fills the air.

Thorfinn stops in front of an old tavern.

Upon setting foot inside, he is greeted by the smell of liquor and loud chatters of men. Drinkers, gamblers, prostitutes - all the noise, it is the last place he would like to be on.

He removes his hood, his blond and unruly hair exposed and scans the area with a disinterested look in his eyes. A man bumps into him and curses before sitting on the nearest table from where he stands.

“Oi kid, watch it!”

**_“Faint.”_ **

Then he sensed it. The metallic scent of blood in the area. He wanders his eyes and it lands in a certain direction where the smell is coming from.

Thorfinn sits near the bartender and asks for water. The bartender initially ridiculed him, mistaking him for someone’s kid, but immediately change his idea after seeing the carvings on the scabbard tied on his belt.

_Tiwaz._

“A-anything you need, sir?” the man asks fidgeting with sweat on his forehead despite the cold.

“Just a glass of water.” Thorfinn says simply.

Another batch of brawny men came afterward and the tavern turns louder. Thorfinn glances occasionally to his left and right while waiting for his request.

“Two buckets of beers on that table and chicken stew--Hey! Canute! Can’t you make it faster?”

The head chef barks orders and whines at one of the servers. A blond, extremely beautiful youth came running to the chef and apologizes.

“You’re working here for almost a month now and you still don’t know what to do first?!” the head chef scornfully points out. Soon his ramblings turn into shouts.

“I'm sorry, I really am.” Canute bows his head so low. His long and straight blond hair reaches the ground.

“And for the love of Odin, tie your hair!”

The man continues to scold the lad in the background.

“Here sir,” finally the glass of water arrives. The bartender clutches his hands watching as Thorfinn sips water from the glass. He smiles anxiously at the youth.

Thorfinn, noticing this, faces at the man deadpan as if questioning the look he is giving him.

“If..you don’t mind, good sir. You’re a vampire slayer, aren’t you?” the bartender asks nervously. Thorfinn did not answer

“I-I can tell from your weapon,” he explains. The bartender knows a sufficient amount of knowledge about vampire slayers. One is that they all have the tiwaz markings carved either on their weapon or anywhere near it. And that is enough for him to conclude that the boy in front of him is one of them.

But the young man continues to leave the question unanswered.

The bartender gives up and grumbles an incoherent ‘rude bastard’ then goes inside a room to call a server.

“Eh? Cleaning supplies?” a young man questions after getting yelled at by the bartender.

Thorfinn’s sharp eyes pins at his target, slowly putting a hand on his dagger. The crowds grew livelier in each passing seconds as the night deepens. He knows exactly that it is the perfect moment.

“....and this will be the last time I am telling you that!” the head chef finishes his lecture and storm back to the kitchen.

The blond server clutches the tray on his hands and raises his head when his boss leaves but much to his shock, he saw a dagger flying to where he stands. It is all too sudden, fast as lightning. A lock of his golden hair is blown by the speed of the weapon that is thrown. Canute freezes, terrified on what just happened.

Behind him, a man is struck by the dagger. The people around the said man scramble to their feet and in mere seconds, the bar is engulfed in the mayhem.

Thorfinn jumps and pulls his other dagger. He lands on the next table where his target is and pummels him into the ground with one powerful kick in the nape. The sound of breaking plates and cups are all over the place. The people watch the unexpected scene. Some quickly leave while some remained, curious about what is yet to come.

The target grabs Thorfinn’s leg and effortlessly throws him on the next table and it shatters at the impact of his body slamming into it.

“Y-you…” the target, a slim man, pale as paper with tantalizing eyes that transforms into bloody crimson. Sharp, long fangs appears when his mouth opens. He cracks his fists before attacking Thorfinn with supernatural speed.

“A vampire! Vampire!” everyone in the tavern screams and runs for their lives including the staff.

Canute who still hasn't recovered from the shock is hurled under the kitchen table when the crowd dashes to the exit. His head bumped to their heels and he miserably shields himself by covering his head with his arms.

Thorfinn’s eyes fluttered open seeing his target assaulting him and quickly rolls to evade. The vampire glares at him in seething anger.

“Vampire slayers,” he says with a voice like death. “I hate the likes of you.”

The slayer positions himself and spits blood. He grips his dagger tightly and launches an attack aiming to weaken the vampire before delivering him into dust. Thorfinn succeeds in slashing the target’s wrists when it fails to pulverize him with a punch. However, as vampires are known to have regenerative healing, the wound vanished before Thorfinn could even make a single move.

But in the blink of an eye, Thorfinn made a bone crushing roundhouse kick bending the vampire’s entire body, until he reaches for his neck.

The target’s head tossed on the ground, the stench of a dead macabre being ruin Canute’s senses. A ripple of fear starts to emanate from his soul as he watched how the fight went between a slayer and a vampire. He trembles, lips shaking and his big, oceanic eyes widened in horror. He stares at the beheaded figure in a pool of blood until it slowly turns into ash. A cloud of dust in the wind, just like everyone in the world.

Even the blood on Thorfinn’s face, blood from his target, evaporates into thin air when he wipes it with his arm. Thorfinn steps to take his other dagger when he senses the faint aura.

_“What?”_

He turns and sees the blond server, about his age, sprinting as though Thorfinn is preying on him. The slayer follows him with a piercing gaze, wondering how the faint aura did not come to the vampire he just killed.

* * *

Canute runs at full speed, not caring to look back if someone is following him. His sole focus is to escape - escape from that young man - that slayer. His heart raced, beating wildly like it will jump out from his chest breaking his lungs. The thundering thoughts of dread came rushing into his system. Amidst his way, he looked above asking - no, _begging_ at the Creator of all living things to save him.

_I never killed anyone so, please._ Tears start to roll on his cheeks, still on the move going to a much safer place.

The darkness of the night sky helps him calm his thoughts. No humans could ever see in the dark, that’s the only thing that can assure him on his safety. Canute ends up breaking down in the middle of the forest, around the hundreds of ancient trees. The hooting of owls and the deafening sounds of multitudes of insects penetrating his ears yet the only thing he could hear of is _fear._

Subconsciously, his left eye turned crimson.


	2. Target

* * *

_**you mustn’t be afraid of death  
you’re a deathless soul  
you can’t be kept in a dark grave  
you’re filled with God’s glow ** _

_**-Rumi** _

* * *

Dry leaves crunched beneath his feet while grey sky loomed above him on his way home. Canute rests his palm on a tree trunk and stops to catch his breath. He had lost how many hours he had been running trying to hide from the unknown. The next thing he knew, it’s already sunrise. He knows the place, the forest to be exact, but somehow being in a panic-stricken state made his memory in shambles that it’s only in the last few hours he realizes whether he’s in the right path or not. The sun shines atop the tall trees and lights cast his face. It is a usual, cold, morning in the middle of autumn. 

After getting out of the forest, he passes by a field of chrysanthemums. Canute gazes around the beauty of his surroundings. The sky, nature, the sun, and simply the air he breathes. All of these are gifts from God. He always appreciates what he has and is always thankful for it but at some point, it also made it question himself more. 

Humans are the ones who are responsible for every God’s creation yet for someone like him who isn’t entirely one, he couldn’t figure out his place in this world. Canute shivers, remembering the horrifying death of the vampire in the hands of the young man. A slayer. He has been well aware of their existence ever since he was a child. But it was the first time he had seen one up close. Living peacefully in Jelling wrapped his mind from a long-forgotten memory of his childhood. It isn’t pleasant in the first place and he is happier in the present. But the incident from last night once again reminds him that as long as he is alive, he could not outrun his true self.

Canute shakes his head refusing what his mind is telling him. While pulling himself together, he clenches his fists causing him to squeeze his bandaged pointing finger, a wound he got from the kitchen in the tavern, and flinches from its pain. He blinks, noticing the dripping blood from his finger. He is so isolated by his thoughts to feel pain. Canute sighs and continues to walk. He’s unsure if he should tell Ragnar about his night in the tavern but knowing the man, he will know that something is bothering him and so he decided to tell him the gist of it.

Once inside the village, he is greeted by the sound of sheep and clucking of the chickens in the nearby farm.

“Canute!” calls by a middle-aged woman wearing an old rose skirt and red bandana, turning her attention to him while feeding the poultry animals. “We heard about what happened in the central, are you okay?” 

Canute is taken aback by her words. Then again, rumors have wings and it flies faster than he can walk. He nods with a smile. “I..I am fine,” he lies. 

“Oh,” the woman sighs in relief. “Ragnar couldn’t sleep thinking about you and decided to go to the central. We tried to stop him, telling him that you’ll be back in the morning safe and sound. But he was just too occupied by his thoughts and storms out of the village.”

“He did what?” After all, it is Ragnar and once he heard that kind of news, surely there is nothing that could stop him from leaving. Canute sighs, both in perturbation and exhaustion. Ragnar must have taken the other route and that’s why they didn't meet along the way. 

“Who would have thought that vampires are lurking around here? Maybe that's the culprit behind the deaths of our livestocks! Heaven forbid, I do hope that the slayer kills them all! Oh, goodness. And here I thought Jelling is free from those creatures.” The woman shakes her head and makes a sign of the cross before continuing to feed the chickens and ducks. She did not forget to tell Canute to go home and wait for Ragnar to return whereas the young lad only nods without fully comprehending what she is babbling about following her statements. 

When he’s home, Canute goes straight to his bed. The woman’s words keep rewinding in his head. He buries his face in his pillow, wondering why he is so affected by that. It’s not like he’s a vampire anyway. Or so he believed. 

An hour later, he heard a rustling and footfalls coming. Out of reflexes and the traumatic event he witnessed last night, Canute spins and lets himself fall under his bed. His heart raced, sweats trickle on his forehead, he struggles to keep up his breathing as he imagined the worst-case scenario. What if he finds him? What if the slayer followed him to his home? He puts not just himself but also the villagers in danger. Hiding a vampire into one’s household or simply protecting them is punishable by death. But he is not one and never considers himself to be one so what’s the point of worry?

His anxiety rose when the room of his door creaked open, revealing a booted foot. Canute closes his eyes, chanting a silent prayer. If today is his last day, he might as well surrender everything to the higher power. 

“Canute, are you here?” the familiar voice spoke and just then, Canute’s trembling body slowly relaxes. He pokes his head out of the bed and gazes at the man.

“Ragnar…”

Ragnar kneels before letting a big sigh of relief out of his system and pulls Canute for an embrace. The boy of seventeen returns the hug like his life depends on the man alone - which sadly is the truth. 

They are not related by blood but Ragnar, his then servant, is the only one in the world whom he could trust. Canute wipes the tears that clog his vision with the back of his hand and buries his face on Ragnar’s shirt. 

* * *

**-One month ago-**

Gold shimmers like sun rays above the table and it makes Gorm’s heart smile. The old man trails the coin with his thin fingers as he beams in joy.

“Very well. This is a job well done.” he claps his hand gleefully basking in the glory of the mountain of gold coins atop his table. Askeladd stretches his arms while sitting on the couch in front of the old man’s desk. His group just successfully obliterated a coven of vampires in Mercia as requested by a member of an anonymous nobility. Askeladd admits that he did not expect such a handsome amount of money in return. It wasn’t much of an easy task but it wasn’t hard either. According to his standards, the vampires were decent enough. They were younger ones if he remembers. Aggressive but lacks the appropriate skills to survive against slayers. Bjorn told him that they do not look like they are one of _his_ men which Askeladd had to agree with. It seems the dumb nobleman whoever he is, mistakes the vampires for being one, the reason for him to pay them higher than what they have expected. Askeladd didn’t bother to clear everything, of course. 

“The Avalon will survive a year or two with that gold, old man.” he whistles and puts his legs above the center table. 

Gorm looks at him in disbelief. “Make no mistake, gold coins are valuable assets. We can’t just divide it into those people!” 

Askeladd’s mouth twists in irritation. _Selfish bastard_. If anything he should be the one to decide what to do with the money his group earned. But Gorm is a valuable person, leaving him no other choice but to comply with the insufferable man. He daydreamed of snapping Gorm’s neck but Askeladd knows that it won’t be the smartest thing to do. Gorm might be unpleasant but he is wise when it comes to money and he needs someone with that skill to run Avalon. 

“Well, then at least share some for our men. Hold a feast, perhaps?” Askeladd requests and although it took a while before the older man answers back, in the end, he agrees.

While Gorm proceeds to count the coins, a knock is heard from outside.

“It’s me.” 

Askeladd turned his head towards the door before giving permission to enter.

“Come in, Thorfinn.” 

Gorm greets the boy but Thorfinn did not pay a bit of attention to the old man. His gaze meets Askeladd before sitting down on the couch adjacent to his.

Askeladd asks Gorm about the letter they’ve talked about the other day before their recent mission. The letter includes a peculiar request coming from another anonymous sender from Jelling, saying that strange incidents are happening in the land for over five months already. At first, he thought it's just another animal eating animals, maybe a wolf or whatever predator it is but it starts to get strange when he finds a pattern in the report. Gorm takes out the letter from his messy drawer inattentively, focusing on his gold counting then tossed the envelope to Askeladd.

“A mission for you,” the man says with a smirk, handing the piece of paper to the boy in front of him.

“Tch,” Thorfinn’s only reply before snatching it from Askeladd’s hand. He read the contents with not much enthusiasm then moments later, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows twitched in bafflement. 

“What the fuck is this?” he grunts, finding the mission offending his abilities. Askeladd chortles at the boy’s reaction.

_Twenty farm animal's died in five months._

Thorfinn darts his eyes to look at Askeladd as if demanding to tell him that this is a joke.

“Farm animals? Are you shitting on me?” he snides.

“Calm down, Thorfinn. Use your head, you have a bad habit of judging things quickly. That is not an ordinary death of sheep, chicken, dogs, cats and so on. There is a pattern in it, look.” Askeladd points at the letter and Thorfinn dips his head to re-read everything again. 

“It happens weekly.” the older man states. “And the animals' internal organs remained intact. That doesn’t sound like a human did it, correct?” he explains.

Realization is starting to dawn on Thorfinn and nods his head. “Then what is this, a breed of vampire that only eats animal blood?” the boy replies mockingly.

Askeladd hums and scratches his head, he has no idea what’s going on in this particular area in Jelling. But one thing is for sure, they need to check it out.

“Go to Jelling this week and investigate what’s in Odin’s name is happening there. If you happened to cross paths with a vampire, you know what to do.”

Thorfinn raises his head with a frown, his eyes penetrating Askeladd’s very soul.

“And the duel?” the boy asks in a demanding tone.

“Finish that and I’ll duel you. Twice.” Askeladd simpers, he knows exactly how to make the boy for him.

Just like that, Thorfinn slides the paper in his pocket and marches outside. 

Askeladd sniggers. _Foolish child, so easy to manipulate_. After a while, he excused himself from Gorm’s office and wandered outside. He passes by a couple of his men and informed them that a feast is to be held tomorrow night. The men roar in delight and jokingly requests for beautiful women in the feast. Askeladd continues to stroll until he spots Gratianus.

“So you’ve returned,” the Welsh greets as he approaches him. 

“Not much about it. Youngsters. Probably not older than fifty years of age.” Askeladd shares. It’s always tricky to calculate a vampire’s age. They could look like a teenage human but are older than seventy. Older vampires tend to be tougher than young ones due to their broad experiences in combat, outrunning slayers and humans alike.

Gratianus nods and joins him as he walks. “I saw your boy leaving just now,”

“Ah Thorfinn,” Askeladd claims. The other man and Bjorn as well have a habit of calling Thorfinn ‘his boy’. He is not annoyed about it. It just feels surreal in Askeladd’s part. “I gave him an assignment in Jelling. He’ll be back in a couple of weeks from now.”

“Jelling?” Gratianus repeats. “Isn’t that area too remote to be a concern?”

Jelling is an underpopulated place, meaning they are less likely to have vampire attacks. Added by the strange mission they received, Askeladd can only guess what the mystery is. He tells Gratianus what it's all about and even the man has to chuckle at the odd case. He points out that at least, no humans were harmed in those five months. Askeladd agrees with that, not that it concerns him.

“No wonder why your boy has a frown all over his facade.” Gratianus states.

He soon noticed how Askeladd is deadly serious and waits for him to talk.

“Gratianus, do you still believe in the prophecy?” all of a sudden, Askeladd speaks. Gratianus shifts his eyes to the people of Avalon, the place he and Askeladd built roughly thirty years ago. Its namesake straight from the legendary paradise where the hero Artorius lies. 

Askeladd does not usually bring something up for no reason. With this, Gratianus is sure that the man is thinking of something else. Something deeper. Something that will impact the present and the future. He lets out a quiet breath before responding.

“It’s been centuries and he hasn’t appeared yet.” 

A soft breeze passes by. Askeladd follows the other man’s eyes. Children are laughing in an open grassy field, men coming in from their work and women chattering. A simple, peaceful life, but caged.

_“Under a blazing moon, he who is neither vampire nor human will bring the end of the King.”_

Askeladd recites a part of the prophecy of the Vanir Freya millenniums ago. 

Vampires live longer than humans. Sooner or later, the vampires will rule the world and there is nothing humans can do about it. For centuries, humans and vampires struggle to co-exist. For humans, they are supposed to be at the top of the food chain, the most intelligent creation of God, until the appearance of the vampires. A supernatural species that exists at the cost of human lives.

But he believes that as long as there are slayers, they will still be in control of the situation. It is the unfairness of the world which they cannot control. These abominable creatures must be stopped

“Or maybe he did,” Askeladd replies after a long silence. “But he hasn’t fulfilled his destiny yet.” 

Gratianus makes faces and looks at him. 

“Isn’t this hero supposed to be born seventeen years ago? That’s what the prophecy told us.” the blond continues.

The older of the two responds with a grunt. “This is why you’re eager to meet the young ones, am I right?” Gratianus asked back.

Askeladd snorts, he is never fond of children. To him, they are nothing but a nuisance. Young ones always run their mouths as though they know everything. It pisses him off. But his growing interest in the young vampires is getting obvious to Gratianus. Bjorn once told him it must be Thorfinn’s influence over him and he had to laugh at the absurdity. However, Gratianus seems to be the only one who has read his motives right. 

“He’s neither vampire nor human,” Askeladd turned his heels to walk away. “Who knows if he’s an animal?”

Gratianus chuckles and shakes his head, watching Askeladd departing back.

“Or an animal killer for whatever reason,” Askeladd mumbles far from anyone’s earshot. 

An amused smile appears on his lips as he goes.

* * *

Through the drumming of the rain and the peals of thunder, Thorfinn peers on the horizon from the top of a rocky mountain hill not far from the town. He's been staying at Jelling for two days by now ever since the tavern incident. But even after slaying the lone vampire, Thorfinn has the impression that his mission isn’t yet completed. The faint smell of blood that day is the reason why he decided to stay a little longer. It seems that the vampire he killed isn’t the only one who should be a cause of concern. He could vividly remember that person; long blond hair, pretty face. All in all, human-looking. There is nothing unusual on how he looks except for the fact that the faint smell vanished when he dashes outside the tavern.

Thorfinn went to the tavern the next day, only to find it closed. But he manages to corner one of the employees who happened to be cleaning the store. He asked and looked for that particular long-haired server with an excuse that he must return something to him. Thorfinn isn’t sure yet of this server, whether he’s a vampire or not and he avoids giving the impression that he is a suspect.

“I think you’re talking about Canute,” the young man scratches his temple with a finger. In his hand is a broom. “From what I know, he lives far from here. There is a small village to the east and then a farm. I heard that’s where he lives. Not sure, though.” 

_Canute._ Thorfinn mused. How interesting, a farm and a suspect for being a vampire - exactly what the letter contains. 

“I see,” he replies. A name and a direction is everything he needs to know. 

There is nothing special about Jelling. Just a long field of rocky plains with a couple of big stones everywhere that even Thorfinn had to admit, is the biggest fucking stones he had clapped his eyes on. The underpopulation is apparent as he could practically memorize the people’s faces in just a day. He was informed by a local that the farm in the east is their main source of livestock. 

Slowly, Thorfinn is connecting the dots. It must be because of the lack of humans living in the area that this vampire turns his attention to animals (in his calculation, there are more herds than people in Jelling) if that’s the case, this is not just an odd case but also an unbelievable one. This might be the first time that a vampire has control over his thirst for human blood. Which is also kind of impossible. In his ten years of life living as a slayer, ten years of slaying those creatures, he had never met a vampire who has this kind of ability. Amusing but not something to be taken lightly. Whether a vampire or not, the fact that the suspect could kill is enough for him to never let his guard down.

His musing came to a halt after sensing a smell of blood from afar. Thorfinn sniffs, nose crinkles at the thick miasma in the air.

A deer’s blood and then something else’s.

Without warning, he jumps off the hill and runs in the forest. 

About time.

* * *

He’s getting hopeless.

The more he fights the urge, the more he gives in. 

Ragnar keeps on telling him to control it but it’s easier said than done. He bits his wounded finger and nibbles it as tears come running down his eyes. Blood pouring down from fingers to his arm, Canute quivers in the corner of his room alone in the dark. He mutters silent curses combined with prayers. It’s too strong. Too strong. And he is out of control. He feels like he’s two people in one body and his sanity is slowly fading away. Canute lets out a muffled scream as he gnaws his hand repeatedly, again and again. Fangs slowly detracting.

_Don't give in, please I’m begging you to stop, PLEASE!_

He screams before making his way outside. It is raining hard and darkness looms as the absence of light from above turns the place into pitch black. No one would ever see or hear him. Before his soundness completely abandons him, Canute makes his way to the forest. He is dripping wet from head to toe by the time he reached the field of chrysanthemums. He stops, putting a hand on his left eye blinking from blue to red. Canute could feel it. His senses are sharper than ever before, from hearing, visuals, even the sense of smell. 

He removes the hand from his and stares into nothingness inside the forest. There he spots a young deer approximately a kilometer away from where he is. Canute dashes forward with unbelievable speed and goes for the kill, bent in devouring the wild animal to ease his thirst. Letting his other blood take over, he had no problem grabbing the helpless fawn into its neck, pinning it down in no time. He let his fangs detract once again and dig it to the animal’s neck.

_Forgive me._

The deer yowls and kicks its feet in an attempt but Canute’s hold is too strong for him to counter. 

Once the fawn stops moving, Canute unhands it and let its limp body fall on the ground. He stares at it with nothing but pure guilt as a roar of lighting erupts in the sky. He stayed at a little while longer, contemplating what he has done for the nth time. It’s always been like this. The guilt, the pain, the sadness after killing an innocent animal. Then again, it’s much better than killing humans. There is never at the time that he thought of devouring a mortal’s blood no matter how strong the urge is.

“I knew it was you.”

A wintry voice says from behind. Canute jolts in shock and turn around to meet the owner of the voice and there stands, the hooded vampire slayer from the other day.

“Canute,” Thorfinn drops his name like poison, pulling out his daggers.

* * *

Canute art by [wontonhakao](https://twitter.com/wontonhakao?s=20)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my very first fantasy AU fic but certainly not the first I've written. Whoever can take a WILD guess what Canute is will have a kiss-- just kidding! XD
> 
> As you noticed, I am using both Norse mythology and Arthurian Legend for this AU.


End file.
